- 7 / At The Entrance -

Morgaine stared into the fire, slowly drifting off to sleep despite the loud protests of her half empty stomach : the few wretched vegetables they had been served in Girvan could hardly be counted as food. She looked up when Gawain reappeared in her line of vision, holding a stick on which were skewered a few slightly carbonized bits of meat. 'Here' he mumbled, and she took the proffered dinner.

They ate in silence, listening raptly, trying to distinguish an eventual hostile sound in the howling of the wind. Her part eaten, Morgaine wondered whether they would remain in the clearing for the night, or whether Arthur decided it was safer to move on. Her unasked question was answered when Gawain lay back beside her. 'Sleep' he instructed, wrapping himself into his cloak, and Morgaine wriggled, trying to find a comfortable position. Ten minutes later she was still trying, when she heard Gawain's exasperated sigh in her back. 'Are you done yet ?' he growled. 'None of your business' she hissed in reply, outraged.

'Will you two be quiet ?' grumbled Dagonet from the other side of the campfire, and Morgaine glared at him, even if it was much less effective from a horizontal position. The young woman tried to keep still, hoping that her tired body would get the message and let her sleep, but to no avail. She could hear the regular breathing - or snoring - of the knights, and it unnerved her even more.

Suddenly an arm snaked around her waist, as Gawain pulled her closer to him. 'Hey !' she jerked away, 'You want to lose an arm ?'

'Listen' he whispered through clenched teeth. 'I'm trying to help, here. If you'd rather not sleep, it's your call.' Morgaine had to admit that the proximity of his warm body was having an effect of her, though she wasn't sure if it was exactly soothing. She couldn't define the brief constriction of her heart at his contact, slightly painful and elating. Yet she felt comfortable in his arms, which was confusing given the fact that the man irritated her to no end.

Finally the priestess accepted the embrace, glancing around to make sure no one was observing them. Gawain's steady breathing soon grew quieter, lulling Morgaine to sleep.


Gawain pulled on the reins, stopping between Galahad and Bors to look at the view that lay before them. In front of him, Morgaine pushed back her hood, exposing her long hair to the wind. Gawain drew back, scowling, as it lashed his face. 'This is Castle Corbenic' the priestess announced, Where the Caudron is kept.'

'Then we must hurry' said Arthur, 'The people in Camboglanna will not last long.' Morgaine sighed, and dismounted, earning a frown of surprise from the knights. 'The way to the door is not a simple one' she warned. 'For the plain you see is naught but a marshland. Unless you wish to sink and drown, you will have to follow me.'

Picking up her skirts, the priestess descended the small hill, stepping carefully on the green grass. Soon she could feel the earth give way under her foot, dark water soaking though. She knelt carefully, and placed one hand into the water-filled imprint. Ancient words of summoning rose from her lips, spreading like circles on the surface. The disturbance began to take the shape of a small human-shaped being, a fairy. 'Water spirit' whispered the sorceress, 'Listen to my prayer. Guide me through your lands to the other side of the marshes.' The creature laughed shrilly. 'Follow' it squeaked, 'If you can !'

Spreading its little translucent wings, it took off, flying along the hill, as Morgaine and the knights followed hurriedly. The sorceress summoned an additional detection charm, destined to show the earth where it was hidden by water. Soon her boots were full of the icy, silty liquid.

The group treaded cautiously through the marshes, a thick fog surrounding them and shielding the castle from view. 'Stick together !' Morgaine heard Arthur call, his voice muffled in the damp air. Their footsteps echoed in the plain, the only sound they would hear for hours, save the occasional swearing.

The fog in front of them grew darker, and the young woman could soon distinguish the outlines of an ancient castle, the high turrets looming above the gates, the murder holes staring blindly to the horizon. Its mission accomplished, the water fairy dove into the earth with a shrill cry.

The knights waded over to where Morgaine stood. 'Bloody island' commented Lancelot, emptying a boot of its watery content. The sulky silence seemed to indicate that his opinion was commonly shared.

Arthur unsheathed his sword, the silver whisper of metal bouncing off the old iron door. He lifted a hand to knock, and the gates swung open at the contact, the screech echoing through the marshes. Behind the stone arch lay a desolate courtyard, centuries of abandonment exposed to their eyes. The narrow stairways were invaded with climbing plants. As she stepped further into the courtyard, Morgaine saw that the shoots had dislodged a few stones, weakening the construction. A rustle behind her made her whirl around, hands raised in a ready spell.

A small fox stood frozen before her, its bead-like eyes wide in fear. Then it leaped, disappearing into a hole in the wall. The priestess understood that the castle was empty ; no human had set foot on its ground for generations, and nature had claimed her territory back. 'No-one home' announced Tristan, stepping out of the shadow of a nearby passage. Galahad swore, kicking a stone in disgust. 'I have risked being eaten for nothing ?!' he exclaimed angrily. 'Oh, quit whining !' snapped Gawain.

Morgaine listened to the knights' bickering. Pointless, but it bought her time to think. It seemed she had been mistaken, in the time or the place, for if no one was guarding the castle, then it contained its treasure no more. The young woman slumped onto a nearby stone bench, pulling the cloak tighter around her body. The cold air prickled her skin as she ran her hands through her hair, trying to concentrate ; but there was no denying it, she was disappointed. She had hoped to see the Cauldron, even if she could not use it.

'Enough !' growled Dagonet. 'I say we ask Morgaine.'

All eyes were on her and she knew Arthur's question before he asked it. 'My Lady, what shall we do next ?' She bit her lip, pulling herself together, fighting off the tiredness and the defeat. 'Search the castle' she ordered, watching them divide into groups and trudge away unenthusiastically. She did not blame them. They knew, just like she did, that the ruined, abandoned chambers contained nothing more than dusty memories of mundane life.

Someone sat down on the bench beside her. 'You alright ?' murmured Gawain, and Morgaine wondered why he even bothered to ask, after all she had put him through. Still, somehow it pleased her immensely. 'I'm fine' she sighed, looking up. He smiled wearily. 'You have no idea where to look, don't you ?'

The young woman glanced at him dejectedly. 'Go away' she mumbled. Gawain snorted, patting her on the arm. 'Happens' he shrugged. 'I like you anyway.'

But Morgaine wasn't paying attention to his words anymore. Her eyes were drawn to the wall behind him ; for there, carved in the stone and almost entirely hidden by moss, were words in the Ancient Speech. The obsolete letters held a message for the worthy : "Here be Murias".


Morgaine took the proffered torch and took a step towards the darkness of the narrow corridor. The flame flickered, almost blown out by the cold draft, and the priestess turned to the knights : 'Be cautious' she warned, her words echoing down the stone tunnel, 'There shall be magic here of power much greater than mine. Do not touch anything ; stay silent.' The men nodded grimly, eyeing with obvious distrust the dark passage.

The corridor went down with a slight slope, winding under the ruins, further and further from the daylight. The air was unpleasantly damp, chilling Morgaine to the bone.

The young woman was tense, preparing herself every second for an eventual attack, her free hand tracing invisible patterns in the air. 'There's a widening, ahead' she muttered to Arthur, who followed her closely, and he passed the message on in a low voice.

Eight torches lit up the small chamber, as the group looked around. The stone walls were covered in ancient runes, most of them almost erased by the continuously dripping water. Three other doors opened from the cavern.

Morgaine ran her fingertips along the irregular carvings. In the eerie silence of the underworld chamber, she read : 'Three doors for three keys, three tasks for your treasure.'